Inesperado
by Wood Phoenix
Summary: His sixth year at Hogwarts will undoubtly and unexpectedly be his best...


***Author's Notes*** As a disclaimer, I don't own anything. If I owned the rights to Harry Potter, I'd be a very rich guy living in luxury, not some 19-year-old college student who has just enough money to eat a pack of raman noodles a day and wishes he could fry up his roommate's cat... never mind, just read the story.  
  
  
At last it was the eve of the day he had waited for all summer. The day he would be able to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and not look back. Well, for a year at least.  
  
Tomorrow he would start his sixth year at Hogwarts, and he could barely wait. Hogwarts was not a school by any standards. While ordinary students learned Chemistry, Algebra, and English, the students of Hogwarts were studying Alchemy, perfecting sleeping potions, and taking notes on the proper ways of turning a sidetable into a goat. And, best of all, in his opinion, while normal children played football and rugby, he and his friends were hopping on their brooms and practicing for their next Quidditch match against their rival house, Slytherin. He missed Quidditch most of all. The wind blowing his hair, the cheers of the crowd as the Quaffle soars from his hand through the opposing goal... life didn't get much better than that.  
  
What a boring life it must be for muggles, he thought, pondering how non-magic people were deprived of the best sport in the world. Similarly, he was sure wizards and witches had much more fun. Every year he spent at Hogwarts had been exciting, and each year was at least twice as fun as the last.   
  
Every summer though, he counted the days until his return to the school. He wished that someday, for all the students in his position, they would allow certain people to stay over the summer holiday. Sighing grimly, he realized that not too many other students were in his position. At least they could make the summer shorter, he thought. He'd be satisfied with that.  
  
This summer had been more or less worse than the others. It had definitely been more interesting though.   
  
Every year, he usually stayed with his aunt and uncle, but this time, they went on a European tour for their holiday, and left him behind with one of his aunt's old friends, who just happened to be renting out the many rooms of her grimy house. He, of course, had gotten the room no one wanted- the attic.  
  
He didn't mind at all though, he rather liked it after awhile. The room was small- just about a square 10 feet- with thin walls and creaky floors. In the corner stood a small dusty bed, and a rectangular card table and folding chair served as a makeshift desk against one wall. And with the absence of a clothes cupboard, he had an equally sufficient coat rack. One of his favorite parts of the room, though, was the window. He liked to look out at the people below and do homework on the window seat when the sun was out. It also served as an excellent and discreet way to send letters to his friends by use of his owl.  
  
He was not the only house occupant, as expected. Ms. Lakatos, the landlady, rented out all of her rooms. Her house was like most of the people and buildings in London- tall and thin. There were four floors, the attic making a fifth, and each floor had about two small rooms on it. Every morning she would provide the occupants with breakfast, and gave them a small dinner if they wanted it each night. The food was not the best he'd had in his sixteen years of life, but it was adequate.  
  
The other occupants were interesting, to say the least, each with a varying view on sharing the house with a neglected sixteen-year-old. He enjoyed reminding them that his aunt and uncle were too good for him, making them think he was some sort of demon. They already thought he was odd to begin with; he couldn't help strengthen their rumors.  
  
He sighed and sat back against his bed. He would miss some of them, the ones who didn't mind him.   
  
The first person he met there was Mr. Noell, a miserly old man who was ironically not miserly at all. He was a novelist back in the day, and was still trying to spark some new inspiration. He had hated the boy when they were first introduced, but now he couldn't help but like him. Around the others, Noell pretended to still hate him, but when they were together, he had a fondness for the boy. Noell told him once that he reminded him of his deceased son. So he was nice to Mr. Noell and they were occasional friends.  
  
Another of his favorites was Carolina. She was twenty-three and a young mother of a son named Patrick. She had left her abusive husband just three months ago and found solace and inexpensive rent charges at the house. He had taken a liking to her and liked how free-spirited and unique she was. She had a blanket of bright blonde hair, showing hints of tiny pinpoint wounds on her temples from where some hair was ripped out by her former husband. They first met when she asked him to babysit her son so she could find a job. He agreed, of course, for there was not much else he had to do.   
  
Babysitting the small boy quickly became one of his favorite things. Patrick was three, and he could definitely sense a little bit of magic presence in the toddler. He liked to experiment with him, letting him hold his wand; only under careful supervision, however, for once the little boy sent red sparks shooting through the window and almost destroying Mr. Noell's new manuscript through the window downstairs, causing many more wild stories about them to spread like brushfire through the house.  
  
But Carolina really appreciated his help, and now that he was leaving, she would have to find another sitter. He felt a tiny twinge of guilt about that, but he would rather go to school, most definitely, than stay there.   
  
Coming back to reality, he instinctively got up off his bed and double-checked to make sure he had packed everything in his trunk. It was more like quadruple-checked, for he had been checking his trunk periodically for the past three hours or so. He glanced at the clock. It was just about midnight. He would have to wake early tomorrow, so he decided to get some sleep. After checking a final time to see if he had finished all his holiday homework, he grabbed one of his cloaks and laid it on top of him as a blanket as he lay in on his bed. He had not slept in the covers since he arrived at the beginning of the summer. He was sure the bed was old and previously slept in, and knowing Ms. Lakatos, the sheets were probably not changed since the last person.  
  
Looking disgustedly at a roach that skittled across the ceiling, he stared out at the night sky through the small hole in the wood above his head. This hole, being about eight inches long and four inches wide, had not really been too troublesome, and most nights he liked to think of it as a built-in skylight. It had been a bit of trouble on the rainy days, common in London, but he had found ways of dealing with the minor problem.  
  
He sighed, half thinking that he couldn't wait to leave, and half thinking he didn't want to go. He decided that this holiday had been one of his favorite summers. Not the best, but one of his favorite.   
  
He tossed and turned exasperatedly, knowing the reason he couldn't fall asleep was because he wanted to, and looked over at his clock. After grabbing his wand and whispering , he saw that it was just about one o'clock. He had been lying there for about an hour. Finally, after thinking about all the great things that awaited him in his sixth year tomorrow, he fell into a light slumber.  
  
  
Potter! Get up! Your school starts today and you still have to pay your rent! a gruff female voice shouted as she pounded on the door.  
  
He rolled over, sat up, and yawned. I'm up, Ms. Lakatos! He said groggily. He listened as she clomped down the stairs. After washing his face in his wash basin, he grabbed a small mirror and tried to tidy his hair. He knew it was completely useless; his hair would always end up unruly whether he tried to tame it or not. So he pushed his dark hair out of his deep blue eyes and gave up.  
  
After getting dressed, he dragged his trunk down the many staircases (with the help of a little magic) and placed it by the door. Looking up, he noticed Mr. Noell, Ms. Lakatos and Carolina eating breakfast at the small table in the kitchen. Ms. Lakatos pulled up a chair for him, and he helped himself to a bagel with lox.   
  
Carolina smiled at him as she helped Patrick with some Cheerios. They couldn't have picked a better time for you to have to go to school. Patrick got accepted into primary school, so I won't need you to babysit anymore!  
  
A grin flashed across his face in relief. Good, I was feeling a little bad about that.  
  
No problem. She quickly turned to Patrick, who had somehow knocked over a carton of milk about two feet away. Ms. Lakatos jumped to clean it up as she scowled at the little boy. Carolina smiled apologetically as she helped her mop up the mess.  
  
Well I won't miss you, Potter. Life'll be better without you and that little brat. Mr. Noell piped up, motioning toward Patrick. Maybe then I'll get a little work done!  
  
I'm sure you will, Mr. Noell. Sorry I couldn't stay longer.  
  
Mr. Noell couldn't supress a smile, and leaned over to tousle the boy's hair. Good luck, kid. Then he got up to return to his room.  
  
Bye, Mr. Noell! You better have something written if I ever come back! He called after him. Mr. Noell looked back with a slight grin, then continued to his room.  
  
Meanwhile, Ms. Lakatos got back up from the floor, bumped her head on the table, and looking very grouchily at him, asked, Who'll take you to the station? Lord knows I can't drive. With your luck, you'll probably have to fly there!  
  
He smiled, thinking it wasn't that bad an idea, when Carolina quickly interjected, Oh, I'll drive him! King's Cross is on my way to work! He laughed quietly, knowing that at this point in time, Carolina was feeling so bad she would probably kiss Mrs. Lakatos feet if she asked her to.  
  
Carolina grabbed Patrick out of his high chair and held him on her hip as she pulled her keys out of her pocket. Ready to go? I'll help you get that in the back. She said, motioning toward his trunk.  
  
After the trunk was in and Patrick was secured in his car seat, they headed off to King's Cross.   
  
The ride there was quiet, until Carolina broke the stillness. So... where is this school of yours?  
  
Way out in the country. That's why we have to take the train. And it's a boarding school too, so we live there most of the year, except Christmas and Easter and such.  
  
She nodded. And summer, of course.  
  
Yeah. Oh and I need your name and address. I want to come visit you two next summer.  
  
Oh! Well I'm not sure if we'll still be living with Mrs. Lakatos. I hope to get a house of my own when I get enough money. In either case, my last name is Quirrell. Look me up when you get back. She smiled and parked the car. Here you go! King's Cross. See you next summer, dear! She kissed his cheek as he waved to Patrick. Patrick waved back adorably.  
  
After all the goodbyes, he successfully got his trunk onto a cart and wheeled it to where he needed to- right between platforms nine and ten.   
  
He looked around him to see if any muggles were looking, and when the coast was clear, he walked right through the wall between the platforms, just like he had his first five years at Hogwarts.  
  
He was quite familiar now with the routine, after having done it five times already. He pulled his uniform and robes out of his trunk and latched it tight again before loading it into the storage compartment. Then he proceeded to walk down the long hallway of the train's boarding area.   
  
Thinking to himself about how great it would be to see his friends again, he wasn't watching and ran nearly head first into Serverus Snape. Snape had been a long running enemy of his since his first day at Hogwarts.   
  
Watch where you're going, Potter! Snape shouted at him. The boy just stood up again and smiled at him. Sorry about that, Snape. Didn't see you there. Deciding to help Snape pick up what he had dropped in the collision, he leaned over and picked up a book, titled Dark Arts Through The Ages.   
  
Doing a little light reading, Snape?  
  
Give me that! Serverus snapped, snatching the book out of his hands as he rushed away in a flash of robes.  
  
He laughed to himself. Everyone knew Snape had always had an interest in the dark arts.  
  
Finally choosing an entrance, he climbed on the train and changed into his robes first. He had always found that to be the easiest way.  
  
He tied his tie as he wandered the compartments, looking for traces of his friends. He popped his head in one and found who he definitely hoped not to run into- Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.  
  
Malfoy had also been a consistent enemy of his, along with his brainless cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. He had found Malfoy to be nothing more than a frequent annoyance, but still disliked the snooty blonde.  
  
Looking for your friends, Potter? Won't find them here, you know. If they're smart, they've stayed home. This year's supposed to be our worst yet, you know?  
  
No thanks to you, Malfoy. And I believe it's you who should be alert this year. My friends and I have a few more tricks up our sleeves this time around. He said smoothly.  
  
Malfoy glared at him, hating for his remark to be shot down. What could a mudblood like you possibly do to me? He snapped, using the rude term for a wizard with only half magic blood.   
  
How would you know if I'm a mudblood, Malfoy? Do the Slytherins send out a weekly newspaper revealing all the latest half-bloods? If not, maybe you think about it. We Gryffindors have weekly Most Irritating Slytherin' awards, and I'm pleased to inform you that you have won nearly every week!  
  
Get out, Potter!  
  
He laughed as he left the compartment. He loved winning in a wits match against Malfoy.  
  
He walked no more than three steps before he heard, Potter! In here!  
  
Following the voice, he found one of his closest friends in a nearby compartment. How are you?! The other boy asked eagerly, sitting next to the window.   
  
I'm alright. Why didn't you reply to my owls? He demanded.  
  
Sorry about that. I told you, my parents and I were in Egypt. Awesome place, that. You should have gone with us.  
  
I wish I could've. He said. He watched as the other boy put on his sweater and tied his tie. He had always admired him, with his long dark hair and catlike grace. The other boy shook out his hair and whisped it back into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck.   
  
I only had about ten minutes to get ready this morning. He explained. Mum and dad were insistent I be early.  
  
He smiled at him and sat down again. Just at that moment, a familiar pair of sandy-haired twins burst into the compartment. Hey, you guys! The taller one said excitedly. We were looking for you, and your's was the first compartment we tried!  
  
You're lucky, that one over there has Malfoy and his gang.  
  
The tall one laughed. The other twin seemed to be a bit distracted with looking out the door of the compartment. The tall one turned to the other, You can go, Romulus. I just didn't want to be stuck alone if I didn't find them.  
  
Alright. See you later, everyone. The shorter twin said before he sprinted away.  
  
The sandy-haired boy sat down and smiled. I missed you guys! I had such a busy summer. It was hardly any fun though, he said as he leaned back against the seat to get comfortable.   
  
Same here. My family was in Egypt all summer. The dark-haired boy told him.  
  
Wicked. Run into any ancient curses?  
  
Well, my dad did run into one, but it only turned his hair green. He's still trying to turn it back.  
  
Doesn't your dad work at the Ministy?   
  
The dark-haired one laughed. Yup. And he had to explain it all to them. It was hilarious. They all thought I did it! All three laughed at that.  
  
The sandy-haired boy turned to face the other one, who was not really paying attention and was instead pondering what kind of wizard Patrick would turn into. Back to reality, James! The boy told him, snapping his fingers. I said, how was your summer?  



End file.
